CHAPTER 227 — THE FIRST STRIKE OF HEAVEN
The storm above the ruined city no longer belonged to the dragons. It belonged to something colder.
The six Executors hovered high above the battlefield like unmoving stars carved out of pure white radiance. Their wings, formed from flowing bands of divine energy, stretched across the torn sky like silent blades. From the moment they appeared the entire atmosphere had changed. The clouds no longer moved naturally; they parted around the Executors as if reality itself was making space for them.
Below, the burning city watched. Sirens echoed through broken streets while firefighters fought through collapsing structures and military units scrambled between districts evacuating civilians. Yet even in the chaos every eye that could see the sky remained fixed upward, because the war had just changed.
